


Bottom of the Funnel

by KellyDay



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Not Beta Read, Recreational Drug Use, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-08 08:08:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12860376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KellyDay/pseuds/KellyDay
Summary: Brienne is a marketing rep sent to a conference with Sandor, a Salesforge analyst from another branch of Seaworth Logistics (SL).They are attending the a quarterly summit called Tour de Forge: Salesforge Conference.Salesforge is a reference to a piece of sales opportunity tracking software.





	1. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Sandor meet at a hotel lobby in downtown King's Landing.

 

 

SANDOR

***  
From: SClegane@seaworthlogistics.com  
To: STarly@seaworthlogistics.com  
SUBJ: Tour de Forge, Salesforge Conference

 

Congratulations on your pending nuptials. But know this, Tarly – I’m not happy to go to this fucking conference. I hired you to get away from this shite.

 

\- SC  
__  


Sandor Clegane  
Senior Salesforge Administrator  
Seaworth Logistics, Inc.  
***

 

He fired off an email to Samwell and checked the time. He wasn’t sure when the marketing rep would arrive, just that they were to meet at the lobby at 8am. It was a quarter of and he was in desperate need of coffee. The thought crossed his mind to leave his post to grab one at the hotel café, but he thought better of it. He needed to meet her one-on-one. Introductions usually went better that way. That way she could stare as long as she wanted to, ask him whatever she wanted to. It was almost rote, at this point, to have to explain about his burned face. When he was young, he had a chip on his shoulder about it. Felt so much anxiety about it. But he’d decided now, that it weeded out the shallow and unadventurous and that suited him just fine.

 

Sam had nothing but good things to say about her, this Brienne Tarth. _Tall blonde, you can’t miss her_ , he said. Sam had gone to this particular convention for the past 3 years on Sandor’s behalf. Even though he’d gotten to a better place with his scars, thanks to therapy, he still didn’t enjoy being gawked at by strangers.

 

“Excuse me.” He heard a woman’s voice behind him. When he turned, he saw beautiful woman – almost as tall as him. She was extremely polished for seven _fucking_ fifty-five in the morning. It made him scratch at his beard self-consciously, looking down at his cotton button down shirt and black slacks. Then his eyes landed on his feet, at his _nice trainers_. _Fucking idiot. Should’ve gone with the loafers. But I fucking hate those loafers. I look like an old fart in those loafers._

 

“Sandor?” She looked him right in the eye. This entire time, she had. “I’m Brie.” She smiled, handing him a coffee cup. “Hope you haven’t had one already.”

 

“Oh, thank gods.” He blurted out in one breath and drank. And it was… _good_. _Really good._

 

She watched him and bit her lip. “It’s great to finally meet you. I know I’ve just started, but you’ve been such an asset to my team.”

 

“Really?” He narrowed his eyes at her and crossed his arms. He couldn’t help but challenge her on that. He recalled setting up a webinar to teach her how to use the system, then a few scattered questions here and there. But it didn’t warrant the kind of praise she offered.

 

“ _Really_. You’ve been extremely helpful. And now, Davos actually knows what I do, so I owe you a drink.” She quirked the corner of her lip and winked at him.

 

“Yeah.” Was all he could manage. _Did this gorgeous blonde just wink at me? Fuck_.

 

“Maybe we should take our seats?” She offered and spun on her heels towards the meeting hall. He watched her hips swing as she led the way, in a tight black skirt, cream shirt on pale skin. He swore he could smell lilacs.

 

When they finally sat, she seemed to relax. She pulled out a small black notebook and set it on her knees, a pen hanging from its elastic binding. “So, Sandor, where are you from?”

 

“Just outside the city, actually. But they pay for a room so I can go to meetings an ungodly fucking time –” He cleared his throat. “I mean –”

 

She held her hand up. “Please, you can relax.” She smiled. “Are you consulting for Seaworth?”

 

“No, but that’s the dream, yeah? I get to work from home most of the time. Usually, Tarly comes out to these damn things.”

 

“Ah, yes.” She pursed her lips, then spoke softly. “I had a friend shop for their expensive bed linens in exchange for doing her taxes. I find the whole thing _that_ loathsome.”

 

Sandor allowed her a snicker. “I got the panini press online.”

 

The lights began to dim as a projector displayed the TDF: SFC logo against a white wall. The emcee stood at the podium and cleared his throat. Since this was only a minor quarterly summit, the proceedings were scaled back dramatically. Gone are the C-List celebrity talks and laser light shows, though each seat had a tote bag of reading materials and swag.

 

“I’ve got marketing trainings all day after this.” She looked down at an itinerary from her tote. “How about you?”

 

“SF trainings until 4. _Fuck_ , it’s going to be a long day,” he said looking at his own.  


“Want to meet at the bar for drinks later?”

 

“Yeah.” He said simply, dumbfounded that he suddenly had something to look forward to.

 

***

 

Sandor found a seat next to the windows, annoyed there hadn’t been outdoor seating. He’d been cooped up in this fluorescent shit box all morning. This is exactly why he hated these things. Right now, he would be watching birds on his back porch while waiting for numbers to compile. Even the view by the window had been bloody boring. Just a vast expanse of curving walkways and well-manicured grass. People in all manner of business attire in rushed procession. As if they had anywhere to be that was all that important.

 

He took a bite out of his chicken sandwich and looked around the café, resigned to people watching. That’s when a flash of blonde caught his eye and he found Brienne striding in hurriedly with a green juice and some kind of wrap. He thought about waving her over, but didn’t. She had taken her laptop out as soon as she sat and he was glad for it. Half the battle of these things is the incessant chirping you have to do with people you’re forced to spend time with. He recalled the last guy he trained had been a real asshole and had thought about the despicable things he’d do to get those five hours back.

 

Not that Brienne had been entirely unpleasant. She, being a _stunner_ , impossibly polished, bringer of an amazing cup of coffee. He watched her tapping away on her laptop, enjoying how she bit her bottom lip in concentration. She had on a pair of dark-rimmed glasses that popped against her pale skin. He took out his phone to berate Samwell for failing to mention how beautiful she was. A few minutes later he got a message back saying: _Well, she’s not everyone’s type._

 

 _That’s a stupid fucking thing to say_ , he replied.

 

When he looked up, he realized Brienne was no longer alone. A bearded man with flaming red hair was standing before her. They seemed to know each other, chatted a bit. She forced a smile that was obvious even from where he sat. And when the man took it upon himself to sit with her, her face fell completely. The redhead just sat back, grinning at her like an idiot.

 

“Tormund, _please_. I have a lot to get through and…” He heard her say, but the rest was inaudible.

 

 _He needs to leave her the fuck alone. Maybe I’ll go and tell him myself._ He thought. Followed by: _Get a grip, you dumb cunt. Nobody’s asking you to –_

 

Before he could finish his thought, she stood suddenly and pulled the man out of his seat by his arm. “If you don’t leave right now, I’ll carve you up and eat your liver,” she growled, a laser-like glare focused on the ginger. Sandor couldn’t help but smile.

 

“That a promise?” The man teased as he backed away. He leered at her again for before leaving. _Good riddance._

 

“You alright, Tarth?” Sandor called to her, and she whipped around to face him. Her cheeks, already flushed from the encounter, got even redder.

 

“Oh gods, how long have you been sitting there?!”

“Long enough.” He grinned. “Get back to your emails, _I_ won’t bother you. I quite like my liver.”

 

She shook her head and laughed. _Fuck, she’s adorable._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are an endless inspiration. I hope to do right by these two. Thanks for reading and comment away if you please!


	2. Man Eater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne meets Sandor for drinks at the hotel lobby with some old friends.

Chapter 2: Man Eater

 

Brienne

  
***  
From: SStark@seaworthlogistics.com  
To: BTarth@seaworthlogistics.com  
RE: Tour de Forge, Salesforge Conference

 

Looked over the outfits and I approve! I sent Mr. & Mrs. Samwell Tarly your wedding present. I’ll see if I can have it expensed.

Don’t forget to look over the dossier I put together for S. Clegane.

 

<3 Sansa

__

Sansa Stark

Marketing Team Administrator

Seaworth Logistics

***

 

Brienne browsed her email at the bar while she waited for her friends to arrive. She knew it would be quiet – she’d been leaning into longer so she could even go to this gods-damned conference. But it made her uneasy _how_ quiet it was. She sent a reply to Sansa about how uncomfortable the skirt was. Then hit refresh.

 

***

From: SClegane@seaworthlogistics.com  
To: BTarth@seaworthlogistics.com  
SUBJ: Drinks

 

Heading down now. Text me where to find you? (45683) 2743663

 

\- SC  
__  


Sandor Clegane  
Senior Salesforge Administrator  
Seaworth Logistics, Inc.  
***

 

When they’d met, she was taken aback by the size of him. It wasn’t rare to find a man who was the _same_ height, but _this_ man… _I could wear heels and he’d_ still _be taller_ , she thought. The awkward teenager in her heart did a twirl. It wasn’t until he turned that she’d seen his scars, and she realized why Sansa had been so insistent about the dossier.

 

Brienne: We’re at a booth to the left of the seating podium.

 

She texted Sandor. Then hit refresh.

 

Why hadn’t she gotten a meeting invite for the StagCo. finalization? She was _sure_ that they would renew their contract – she had even expected them to sign up for more. She thought at least Renly, the CEO and an old friend, would’ve sent her a confirmation. But before she could send him a follow-up email, Bronn plopped down beside her.

 

“How goes it, Man Eater?” He grinned. Tyrion and Podrick soon followed, sliding into the booth across from her. The three were consultants for her last company, Gold Lion.

 

“Better, now.” She smiled at them broadly.

 

“Oh, don’t tell me you miss this ugly mug!” Bronn pointed to himself. He was done for the day, his dress shirt already unbuttoned, necktie crumpled into his pocket.

 

“I actually do!” She clapped her hands. When she met this man, she’d found him _absolutely abhorrent_. But he always had a joke at the darkest time and at her last job, she definitely grew to appreciate it.

 

Tyrion, already holding his own drink, nodded appreciatively to her. He had taken off his jacket and had on a black vest over a striped shirt. Always dapper.

 

She would have nodded back, but she suddenly felt tears threatening to burn her eyes. She dug her fingernails at her thigh to keep herself together. _You’re better than that, Tarth._

 

“Ah I miss you too, Tarth. Nobody left with any integrity at that place.” He hung his head.

 

Before she could greet Pod – _who had suddenly become a hipster model_ – Sandor approached them. She half wondered if he would sit next to Pod, thus squishing him against Tyrion. Instead he grabbed a chair nearby and set it down in front of their booth.

 

“Sandor! Meet Podrick, Tyrion and Bronn.”

They all nodded to each other. Sandor stuck out a large paw, but they only looked at it dumbfounded. They’d all seen a panel on infection prevention at the last TDF: SFC that had completely put them off of handshakes. _But Sandor has no way of knowing that_ , she realized.

 

“Sorry we don’t do that. Sure way to get sick.”

 

He nodded. “Right, I get it. One more reason I hate these _fucking_ _things_.” He growled through his teeth, browsing the tap list.

 

“Well, well. I think we’ll get along just fine, Sandor.” Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

 

“Have you seen that movie, Contagion?” Pod added. “I’m never touching my face again.”

 

“Chilling.” Brienne nodded in agreement.

 

Sandor chuckled softly, and they all turned to him as a group. She watched as his eyes widened slowly, gnawing at his bottom lip.

 

“You’re a big fucker, huh. Proper size for Man Eater, here,” Bronn snorted as he clapped Brienne’s back.

 

She shrugged him off, rolling her eyes. “Get me a drink, you little shit.” She nodded to him and he obeyed, walking backward with his hands up in surrender.

 

“Still drinking the blood of men? Right, then.” Bronn grinned and made himself scarce.

 

“Man Eater.” Sandor grunted, almost as if he were lost in thought. _What the?! Ugh…That little shit_. Her eyes flew to Tyrion’s in a silent plea.

 

“A dumb joke between old friends,” he offered. “Perhaps one day we’ll tell you about it. When we’re better acquainted… and well lubricated.” He lifted his drink up with his pinky out, grinning as he did.

 

“Why would you get lubricated?” Pod interjected, dreamily. “I mean… to explain the _joke_ … ?” His brow furrowed. “How’s _that_ work?”

 

At that they all began to cackle.

 

“Don’t mind him.” Tyrion ruffled Pod’s hair like a little boy’s. “He just took a hit on that silly vape pen before he came in.” He said flatly by way of explaining.

 

Pod took it all in stride, smiling broadly, cheeks reddening.

 

Sandor sat back in his chair and seemed to relax, gesturing to a waiter to take his drink order. A local lager that he received just as Bronn returned with her gin and tonic. When Bronn returned, she followed suit. Tyrion regaled them all with a story about how Brienne’s replacement had been a creepy woman named Melisandre – every now and again you get such _weirdos_ from temp agency.

 

“The other day, she meant to _heal_ me,” Tyrion waved his hands around like a sorcerer.

 

“Waved a crystal around him for, like, three whole minutes,” added Pod.

 

Bronn chuckled. “I got her to do it to me for ten. Got a good look at her and her… _assets_.”

 

“You don’t need long, she dresses quite provocatively.” Tyrion shrugged, but quickly recoiled sensing the grave he’d just dug himself.

 

“That doesn’t mean you get to ogle her.” She snapped.

 

“Ahem,” Sandor cleared his throat. “I think if I let her wave a crystal around me for ten fucking minutes, I can take a respectful assessment.”

 

“That’s all I meant,” Bronn shrugged. “Anyway, I definitely got vibes from her.”

 

“Ugh,” Brie and Pod let out in unison, skewing their faces in disgust, chuckling as they did.

 

“Dare I ask what _kind_ of vibes?” asked Tyrion.

 

“She texted me her number after.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

 

“ _Oh_ , it’s like they say in stories!” Tyrion gasped sarcastically, while gesturing to the server. “Please, may I have another?” He held his empty martini glass in the air. _Definitely getting after it tonight._

 

“Not likely. Her branch is about to merge with ours… don’t want to deal with that shite.”

 

“Right, well there’s _that_.” Tyrion rolled his eyes. He’d fallen out of touch the past couple of months and she assumed he’d been busy. This quarter seemed to be hell for everyone. It didn’t surprise her that there were big moves happening at StagCo in her absence. What surprised her was her genuine disinterest in it.

 

“That’s the right move, Bronn.” She concluded. “Don’t shit where you eat.”

 

“You’re a cautionary tale for us all, Man Eater.” He laughed.

 

“Man Eater.” Sandor muttered again absentmindedly. She pretended not to hear.

 

“This round’s on me, boys.” She finished her drink and began fishing for her wallet in her laptop bag. “I have to save some energy.” She crunched on her ice and took out a piece of gunmetal plastic from the wallet’s sleeve.

 

“Don’t tell me this is about work.” Tyrion protested. “We were going to the strip club later.”

 

“You can still go.” She laughed. “Take Sandor with you.”

 

“Oh, no. Really, that’s _not_ my scene _–_ ”

 

“Don’t worry it’s pretty fun.” Pod mumbled. “We just smoke cigars and talk to beautiful women.”

 

“That’s what _you_ do.” Bronn kicked him under the table.

 

She handed the credit card over to the server that materialized before her _. It’s the power of the Valyrian Steel card_ , she remarked to herself. _Just like in all the commercials._ She had to remember to stop watching so much TV in hotel rooms. It was becoming a problem.

 

“ _Oooh_ , is this on SL?”

 

“This is a work engagement.” She smiled, patting Bronn’s leg to get out of the booth. He bowed to her as he did so.

 

“Don’t work too late, Brienne. We’ve got fucking yoga in the morning.” Sandor said as Pod muttered, “Ooh _fucking_ yoga. _Interesting_.” The all laughed. She walked a few steps away before she heard Tyrion call to her.

 

“May the Forge be with you.”

 

“Ugh.” She turned on her heel to finally leave.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Trust Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne & Sandor do some team building.
> 
>    
> Now less rough and with Sandor getting too high!  
> Rough chapter.
> 
> Where you see this:
> 
> ***  
> ***
> 
> There should be a scene where Brienne is freaking out about her job and is a jerk to Sandor the whole time. They do yoga and I imagine some dream board-type exercise with each other wherein Brienne kind of shits on his dreams..?

 DAY 2 of TDF: SFC

BRIENNE

***

Brienne was engrossed in another episode of Game of Kings. This one had gotten some awards, she recalled, having just now caught up. It wasn’t like her to follow anything on television. Up until recently, she’d traveled for most of her work. But she found she was compelled by the sex as much as the politics. On this episode, Gwen of Christie a badass female warrior was going to fight another warrior called the Dog. She took a bath and then went to bed shortly after. That night, she dreamed she was Gwen. Fighting her Dog. She managed to knock his dog helmet off, and felt her blood burn to finally see his face. But instead of seeing the true face of the Dog, she saw Sandor Clegane, _Senior Salesforge Administrator_.

Brienne’s eyes fluttered open as she gasped. She pulled out a small black book from her night stand and began to write. _This is the first dream I’ve had in 228 days…_  

***

She woke up feeling accomplished. Having completed all of her tasks last night, save for a few presentations further into the future. The sky was lavender, with just a hint of fiery orange out in the horizon. Brienne stood in front of her balcony in her robe, clutching a warm mug of tea to her lips. The city was peaceful, clear of the hordes that filled the streets the night before. Before she closed the sliding door behind her, she thought she might grow to like this place, but quickly dismissed the thought. _That’s only if SL_ doesn’t _work out. Positive push, Brie._

 

Brienne dug through her suitcase to find her compression pants and her sports bra. A blue and gold set she found when Sansa dragged her to a shopping outlet. It’s all she left with that day, and Sansa being the sweetheart she always is, still cheered, “See, I _knew_ you’d find something you like!”

 

When she got up to the roof deck, she saw a large table in front with a sign that read Holistic Team Building. Bright blue yoga mats were rolled in neat piles, all emblazoned with Tour de Forge logo.

 

“Good morning.” Sandor approached her wearing sweat pants and a shirt that read Seaworth Logistics, its sleeves cut off to reveal his muscled arms.

 

“Sure is.” Brienne gave him a good look, the corners of her lips quirking.

 

“I uh… I sweat a lot.” He mumbled and gestured to a couple spots in the back for the both of them. She could remember a time when a moment like this, just picking a spot to do yoga in public, had given her so much anxiety. Brienne would _always_ pick the back – she was so self-conscious of her size. Then one day she realized she’d never be able to hide, tall as she was, so why care what anyone thought. _Nasty little shits aren’t worth crying over,_ she decided. _But if this is where Sandor is comfortable, I’ll oblige him._

 

“Did you go out with the boys last night?” She asked as she plopped down on her mat. Laying down felt good. She wished she’d gone out last night. It was better than worrying herself about the finalization, which _still_ hadn’t been set. It reminded her of her grandmother, being so superstitious. She wondered if she was making connections where there were none.

 

He sighed heavily and swiped a large hand down his face. “Regretting it pretty badly right now.” He laid down next to her.

 

The tiny instructor, Shae, had been an amazing contortionist with double joints, she decided, as she struggled to keep her poise. Sandor seemed to know exactly what he was doing. He was like a giant ballerina. Brienne stopped staring and tried to concentrate on her breathing. Before the end of sun salutations, however, her phone buzzed at her hip and she snuck off to check it. Only hot-priority emails ever came through her do-not-disturb filter.

 

***

From: dseaworth@seaworthlogistics.com

To: acquisitions@seaworthlogistics.com

SUBJ: Stag Co.

 

All – I’m pleased to announce that we’ve received several contracts with The Citadel Group. As marketing lead, I’d like Brienne to oversee efforts in expanding TCG’s exposure and keep track of leads as they flow through the sales cycle. As such, her current priorities will be shifted as soon as possible. Congratulations Brienne!

 

We will cover details in the Monday morning meeting, once Brienne has returned from Tour de Forge. Until then, have a great weekend!

__

  1. Seaworth, Owner CEO



Seaworth Logistics

***

 

A pit grew in her stomach and she bent over in pain. _What did all that even mean? Congratulations? Have a great weekend?! It was Wednesday!_

 

         Brienne:      The fuck is going on?!

         Sansa:         idk just finding out too!

 

***

SANDOR

 

He watched her rush out the door from between his legs, tailbone lifted straight up and fingers splayed wide on the floor. He wished he had his phone on him so that he could know what was so damn important, but knew he left it in his room for a reason. For one, there was nowhere to put it. _And nothing’s so important that it should interrupt sun salutations,_ Tarly had told him. This whole thing was daft. but he jumped at the chance to work out.

 

Even after last night. _Especially, after last night._

 

It all started innocently enough at a charming little club called The Landing Strip. The men took their seats around a lighted stage as they puffed on cigars. Tufted leather seats snaked around an amorphous stage as bodies of all shapes and sizes walked around in varying stages of undress. Feather boas abound and _those stocking holder things…_ Everything meant to titillate whatever fetish of the flesh is burned into men’s minds. Sandor couldn’t help the dark thought. _Ah well, when in Dorne…_ And it struck him that his therapist, one of KL’s highest rated*, would be proud. ***

 

         *A bubbly child of privilege that he’d early on written off as a dimwit, but turned out to be most compassionate while being incredibly professional. Not since Professor E.B.** had someone managed to break through to him. If he cared to, he would give her five stars on 3ER. Margaery Tyrell, that is.

 

         **Professor E.B. was something of a mentor. An endlessly patient, colorful Religious Studies prof. that he worked with as a grad student. Funny thing though, they’d only met because he volunteered at a group home Sandor had crashed after a nasty bender.

 

         ***Except there’s no way she would be, because someone had coerced him to take a hit off of Pod’s vape thing and he was now having what Professor E. B. called _a learning experience_.

 

He felt overwhelmed, barraged by the flesh exposed around him. Turning inward to find solace in all this debauchery. When he turned his head, he saw a woman presenting the crotch of her thong to him from behind, a pose he recognized as _“uttanasana.”_ ****

 

         ***Yes, he’d fucking Googled sun salutations so he didn’t look foolish. He found after a week, he actually enjoyed it.

 

“What do you desire?” A bronzed beauty with dark dreads appeared next him to take his drink order, kneeling a bit to show her chest.

 

He blinked at them slowly. “Fuuuck…”

 

“ _That’s_ definitely off the menu.” She raised her brows up. “Perhaps something else?”

 

“Aye, how ‘bout a lap dance?” Bronn clapped him in the back as he did to Brienne earlier. _Oh, Brienne._

“What do you desire?” She repeated, smile returning.

 

“Gimme a big blonde one with short hair.” He blurted out.

 

The crowd of them burst in laughter. Pod shifted uncomfortably in his seat, whispering something to the little one… _Fucking dog, he’s Brienne’s comrade. Tyrion,_ he corrected himself.

 

“Tyrion.” He called out to him.

 

The man considered him and stood by, beckoning the waiter for a glass of water as he did.

 

“That pen fucked me up, mate,” he looked into Tyrion’s eyes.

 

“S’okay Sandor, we got you.” Pod nudged him softly from his scarred side, taking his cigar. “This doesn’t help.” He muttered, ashing it into a conveniently placed ashtray. The bronze woman returned with a pint of lager and a what he’d recognized was fancy water. “We got you,” Pod smiled at him broadly again and then stepped back.

 

There stood a tall, lithe figure. Muscled like Brienne, but in a totally different way. Her build reminded him of a cheetah as she stalked towards him. Her short, silver hair cropped close to her skull, thin high cheek bones that accentuated her full lips. “Sandor, is it? I’m Kat.”

 

He took a big gulp of water.

 

“Wanna go somewhere more private?” She winked at him and took his hand. He was starting to like the winking thing and he gave into her easily, as she led him into a round room lit with candles. His skin prickled, but he quickly forgot his surroundings as she forced him to sit, her muscled ass now on his lap.

 

“Umm… I haven’t got… you know… a lot of money, Kat.”

 

“Don’t worry, your friend’s taking care of it.” He felt her whisper into his ear, on the good side. _Well, in that case…_

 

“Look at me.” He growled, grasping her by the arms.

 

She braced against him for a moment, but quickly relaxed. “You wanna scare me, is that it big man?” Kat looked into his eyes and he noticed a path of freckles dusting her face, crossing the bridge of her nose from each cheek. “Take your paws off me.” She breathed into his ear. It made him gasp and lose himself in her, all exotic fruit and sweat.

 

Kat lifted herself off of him as he loosened his grasp. “They told me you asked for a tall blonde with short hair,” She purred slowly, swinging her hips as she turned around for him, arching her back so he could admire her fully. “Do I do the trick?” She turned back to him as she bit her lip, in a kind of practiced way he recognized. _This one could definitely close._

 

She started to undo the straps of her lacy, black bra and clutched the scrap of fabric to her chest as she slowly turned back to him. He suddenly wished she was wearing glasses. _Shit, this isn’t_ – she dropped her hands away to reveal her soft, round bouncing breasts.

 

“You’re– _Please_ cover up. I can’t do this.”

 

“But we’re not through and your friend’s already paid.”

 

“He’s not my friend. I just tagged along because

 

Dejected, he walked back out to the main room to find Tyrion. _Shitty to judge him by his looks, but he appears most apt to bankroll the evening._ He found the man receiving the same item on the menu, from a leather-clad Dornish woman. His eyes darted to Clegane and he gave the man a nod, tipping his hat to him to telegraph his intention to leave. But before he could, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

 

Before he could tell off Bronn, he turned to Pod instead. He apologized if Sandor didn’t have a good time, but thanked him for being a good sport. Sandor heartened at that. Good kid. He gave him a nod and warned him not to tell Brienne. She shouldn’t know. It would be… awkward.

 

Sandor focused on his breathing, stretching his arms backward loosening up his spine, trying to atone for something.

 

 

“What is your dream, Sandor?”

 

“I’d _love_ to just set sail one day.” The word seemed odd coming out of this man.

 

“You could do that now: personal hot spot, cloud storage, remote access…”

 

“What I meant is, I’d love to have enough money for a boat one day. Sail away. Maybe never come back.”

 

“Right.”

 

“I take it you’re not into that.” He said as though ticking off some mental checklist. It pissed her right off.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

 

“Well, you certainly can’t relax.”

 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, no one can just sail away from their problems, Sandor. That’s what selfish people do.”

 

“We’re not talking about me now, are we?”

 

“Ugh…”

 

“What the fuck’s the matter with you?”

 

“Nothing...” He took her arm firmly and pulled her into the alcove in the hall. She felt a flutter in her stomach, surprised somehow that he overpowered her – that she _let_ him take control. “Look, you’ve been a real bitch all morning and I think I deserve an explanation. You just got a new account for fucks sake!”

 

He was being coarse, but she knew it was true. A knot of guilt grew in her chest, ashamed that she allowed Sandor to be collateral damage in her distress. “I…” She hung her head, but suddenly shot up at a sudden realization. “How do you know about that!?”

 

“I’m copied on the email.” He shrugged, knowing exactly what she meant.

 

She slumped her shoulders and sighed. “No use hiding it now.” She swallowed hard and nodded in the direction of the hotel café. “Let me get you a cup of coffee.”

 

***­­­

 

“When I left Gold Lion, I took StagCo along with it. Not only is Jaime Lannister my ex, but he also happens to be the poor chump I sidelined to get that business.” She blurted out in one breath. _I guess it really didn’t take that long to explain after all._

 

Sandor’s eyes widened, and she didn’t know how to take his shock. _He thinks I’m a terrible person, now_. Then she wondered when it started mattering _what_ he thought of her. No matter. She was still terrible. _Man Eater_. His brows lifted with genuine concern, scratching at the scruff on his strong jaw. “Do you think he knows?”

 

At that she snorted. This man’s capacity to go along with her. It would’ve made her laugh if not for the fact that she was utterly fucked.

 

“I don’t know, but that boat sounds great right now.”

 

His face slowly broke into a smile. _Gods, that smile_. The creases around his eyes crinkled and his eyes seemed to shine, smiling with his entire face. It made her mirror him back and soon her mouth was open, letting out a sound of delight. “I’m utterly fucked.”

 

“Fuck this place. Let’s get a drink.”

 

***

 

It only took a couple of blocks for them to find a dive, which suited their purposes well enough. The big black awning outside read Wolf & Hound. Once they ducked inside, she was reminded of their size. The room was a glorified hallway with the bar along one side and a shelf along the other for patrons to presumably stand. A juke box was stuffed into a corner beneath an old TV that played what Brienne recognized as Pulp Fiction.

 

“This’ll do.” He nodded and sat in front of the bartender, a slim brunette who barely looked old enough to drive, let alone tend bar. Her greasy hair was pulled back into a top knot, an oversized flannel shirt draped over her petite frame.

 

“Gotta go, Gen. Two _fuck-off_ giants just walked in.” She smiled into the glittery black phone pressed against her cheek. “You two coming from that convention thingy at the Ritz?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll have a Guinness.” Sandor grunted dismissively.

 

“A grumpy colossus convention?” _Great band name_. The girl rolled her eyes and pushed off of the bar to get his beer.

 

“Great band name,” the girl murmured. “ _Someone_ woke up on the wrong side of the dog house.” The girl’s thick eyebrows knitted together and turned away to get his beer.

 

She couldn’t help smirking as she approached the stool at his left. A deliberate choice that sent her mind racing in the span of two paces from the door jamb. But as she did, he pulled her elbow to his right. Again, he took control. And again, she let him.

 

“Don’t mind him. He’s just endured team building exercise.” She teased.

 

“Ugh gods, like, trust falls and shit?” The girl rolled her eyes and held up the pint, his paw catching it before she could set it down.

 

Her face scrunched up in reaction. “Someone drop you? Or did no one try to catch you?” She smirked.

 

“Leave me,” he growled, a rumble that Brienne felt in her tummy.

 

“And what’s the lady having?” She turned to her.

 

“Two fingers of that bourbon,” she pointed at a label with big gothic letters, near the top. “Neat.”

 

“ _Oh shiiiiiiit!_ What’s _your_ name?” She pursed her lips and snapped.

 

She laughed and simply said, “Brie.” The girl set a small glass in front of her and poured her drink. “And this is Sandor.”

 

“Name’s Arry. I need to make a call, just holler if you need me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's really rough, but I had a lot of fun bits I wanted to skip ahead to.


	4. Wolf & Hound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Sandor hang out at a dive bar called Wolf & Hound owned by Aryy Stark.
> 
> New and improved with...
> 
> more smut and more angst!

***

SANDOR

 

Arry kept them plied with drinks as they went song for song, reconvening next to the juke box. As it got closer to five, regulars filled the small space, and they found themselves at a hipster dive bar.

 

The music stayed in the same decade, but not on the same planet. The young kids seemed to like Star Man and most raised their glass to sing the chorus.

 

 _Shaping up to be a good night_ , he thought. He realized they had both stopped talking but hadn’t taken their eyes off each other.

 

“Hey,” she smiled at him and bumped her shoulder against him. “I really needed this, thanks.”

 

“You know you’ll be fine, right?”

 

“I do?” She laughed against her hand.

 

“Look at you. You’re great.” He turned to her.

 

She giggled at that. “It’s my third drink, _idiot_.”

 

 _Gods_ the way she looked at him. Sandor gave a tired smile, throwing his head back so he could peer down at her. It was more difficult with a woman her size, he found, as he straightened his spine to gain more altitude.

 

“Now that you’re loosened up, I have to ask…”

 

Brienne leaned forward, her forehead crinkling.

 

“Had Tarly warned you about me?” He asked, just below the noise of the crowd around them, the music blaring on.

 

“ _Warned_ me?” She blinked at him slowly. “About what?” She shrugged but quickly clapped her hand over her mouth before saying, “Oh right!”

 

“ _Oh, right?!”_ He shook his head. “ _Fuck_ , woman, if I hadn’t met you out there, I wouldn’t know if you were drunk or blind.”

A moment passed, and she threw back her last sip. Then she stared at him, lips pursed. She didn’t seem angry, but she was serious. It unnerved him, not knowing what it meant. Not at all.

 

“Why on earth would you say that?” She said finally. “I thought we were… well _I_ was having a good time.” She wouldn’t look away. That too, unnerved him.

 

He shook his head again and emptied his cup. “The way you look at me…” he murmured, staring into his glass, laughing darkly. _Like you really see me._ He thought but wouldn’t say.

 

She took his glass and set it down, taking his hand as she did. His eyes narrowed at her. _Don’t you feel sorry for me. Not you._ When he was younger, he would take anything he could get. But quickly learned to avoid women who felt sorry for him. At best, he’d get a pity fuck. At worst, he’d fall for someone who acted as if he should be grateful to be treated like a dog.

 

He looked down at their hands and she squeezed just a bit. “When I was teenager, I volunteered at a veterans’ hospital. My father had worked there. I suppose scars don’t really bother me anymore. Well– not the same way they bother other people. There are worse things, to be afraid of.” She brushed her thumb softly over his knuckles, a shy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. _Glorious._

 

“Sam only told me good things about you. And no, he hadn’t _warned_ me.” And there it was again, her mischievous smile. “Did he warn you about _me_?” This. Woman.

 

“Gods, I wish he’d told me how gorgeous you were,” he blurted out. “Maybe I’d have dressed nicer, shaved maybe.” He brushed at his jaw and watched her face change from amusement to something more primal.

 

 “I think you’d better watch what you say before I pull you into that bathroom.” She craned her head back towards the door behind her, exposing her long neck. Soft skin over muscle. And when his eyes raised to hers again, she winked at him. _Seven hells._

 

He leaned across the table to capture her lips with his, brushing his fingertips against her neck as he did. She whimpered softly as she yielded to him. Without hesitation she deepened the kiss, searching for his tongue. And then he felt her fingers rest on his knee. All thoughts left his mind except one: how it had grown terribly quiet in the bar all of a sudden.

 

“Get a room! Get a room! Get a room!” The bar started chanting. Arry stood before both of them.

***

 

Brienne and Sandor walk back to the hotel. He is holding her hand then, making a beeline across the street to the hotel, dragging her along with him. She doesn’t seem to mind, and he wonders why she keeps letting him overpower her. _God, get me to the elevator so we could be alone again_ , he begs the universe. As they crossed the street, a redheaded man – _the_ redheaded man shot a pointed look their way.

 

“And what are you two doing?”

 

“I’m taking her back to her room. She’s had one too many.”

 

At that, Tormund narrowed his eyes at Sandor. “Enjoy it while it lasts.” He said finally, walking away as the two gawked at him in the middle of the crosswalk.

 

A real boner-killer, that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I was eager to get this out, so it's going to be a little rough. Expect revisions!


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